Fear
by JenniferJF
Summary: Sam's emotional journey through S7 and S8. S/J. "She watched the telltale tendril curl up into the sky, declaring his location as clearly as a neon sign."
1. of Loss

She watched the telltale tendril curl up into the sky, declaring his location as clearly as a neon sign. So it was to be in the backyard, if it was to be at all. Which was probably a good thing. She could remember all to clearly the last time she had sat in his driveway, wanting - no, _needing_ - it was time to start being honest with herself - to be with him. Only now she knew with certainty what she had only started to understand back then. Alien devices and machinations weren't nearly as dangerous as her own damn fears and foolishness.

And death wasn't the only path to loss.

* * *

_He was dying. Slowly, to be sure, but that damned Ancient download made his eventual death almost inevitable. Absolutely nothing else could have brought her to his house at this time of the morning. It had only been sheer willpower which had kept her from coming hours earlier, but it would be hard enough to explain her arrival now. There could have been no rationale for arriving in the middle of the night._

_Not that she needed a rationale, of course. Because there was absolutely nothing wrong with dropping by to check on a sick friend - or a sick commanding officer. A sick comrade-in-arms. Which was all she was doing. Because someone had to, and why couldn't it be her?_

_And yet, of course, she knew the reasons it shouldn't be her; knew all the reasons she should not be sitting in Colonel Jack O'Neill's driveway at 0630. Ever. Not even now. Maybe especially not now. Yet here she was. Because despite the fact that she now had Pete and didn't _need_ Jack anymore, and despite the fact that she was pretty sure most of the time the colonel didn't even _remember _there was a Samantha Carter who existed beyond the astrophysicist Air Force officer, and despite the regulations which forbade her from even caring that he _didn't_ care anymore, she couldn't help herself._

_She had to be with him. It was stupid, and it was foolish, and it made no sense. There was every rational reason for her to back up and drive away, and not one for her getting out of her car and knocking on his door. And she was nothing if not rational._

_Sam opened the car door. She stepped out of the car, walked up to Colonel O'Neill's front door, and knocked._

* * *

Only this visit was harder because she didn't even have the excuse of coming to check on him to explain her presence; she knew exactly why she was there, and exactly what she had to say.

And she'd never been so scared before in her life.


	2. of Falling Short

She might never have been so scared before in her life as she was sitting there in front of Jack O'Neill's house, but Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter had known fears beyond most people's worst nightmares and had overcome them. It was time for fear to stop ruling her personal life as well. What she wanted to say - what she _needed_ to say - was just too important. She'd made that mistake before which was, after all, how this whole mess got started. She understood that, finally, now when it was nearly too late. She couldn't let her fears keep her from having this conversation. Not this time.

* * *

_Her eyes tracked his back as he walked away, drifting closed only after he'd left the infirmary. Her head hurt. She needed to sleep. She still wasn't thinking clearly._

_But that was just an excuse. She sighed in disgust at her own inability to focus. At the moment, she wasn't entirely sure what she had_ _wanted to say to the colonel, but she knew it certainly hadn't been 'nothing.' 'Nothing' didn't half express the gratitude she'd felt upon waking up and finding him there at her bedside or her relief at knowing she was back at the SGC, his mere presence conveying a sense of well-being deeper than she could possibly make him understand. And "nothing' didn't tell him how good it made her feel just to have him there next to her, simply being _Jack_, trying in his rather comic yet completely endearing way to make her feel better with offers of yo-yos and magazines. _

_Still she tried to remember. To fight through the pain and confusion. Because it felt important. Crucial. And in her mind, as if from far away, she could almost hear… That song… And the eerily disembodied giggle of that enigmatic child… bringing back the memories of…_

_Jack. Talking to Jack. And… She smiled, remembering the kiss, as if anyone could forget _that_ kiss._

_Only it hadn't been right; it wasn't Jack. She couldn't kiss Jack, not ever. Her smile evaporated almost as quickly as it had come. Because - God help her - there were far too many moments like the one in her dream when she wanted nothing more desperately than to just give in. To lose some of that infamous Carter self-control and just do it. Reach across the lab bench, or the conference table, or the space between their sleeping bags, grab him, and just let herself go._

_She knew she never would though. Not in reality. The cost was too high.; the _risks_ were too high. She had too much to lose; they all did. But it was more than reputation and career. The tenuous balance of friendship and camaraderie they'd managed to find after deciding to leave any deeper feelings safely in the room all those years ago, despite representing only a fraction of her desire, was at least something. And any confusion her hallucination might have produced had been neatly cleared up the moment he'd questioned her use of his given name._

_His 'Excuse me?' still rang like a claxon in her ears. Amazing how two little words could cut like a knife. Or maybe that was just the headache. But, no. She knew it wasn't. Because if she'd had any doubt - any at all - about how he viewed their relationship, or about how he viewed _her_, he'd effectively squashed them with those two words. Even awakening from days of sleep, even suffering as she was from a major concussion, confused and disoriented, she couldn't even have that one little word. Couldn't have 'Jack.' _

_So her question was answered without having to be asked. She could keep her colonel and mentor and friend and not have to take the risk of trying for more and losing it all. And she could move on - she could find a new dream and a new hope for happiness elsewhere._

_And if the pillow next to her cheek was wet, it was only because the concussion had weakened her self-control. She'd be fine. She always was._

* * *

Only, of course, the concussion was long gone, leaving her with no excuse for the tears which still wet her pillow in the silence of the night.


	3. of Death

Sitting there now, watching the smoke curl into the sky above his backyard, she finally had to admit to herself what the problem really was. She was miserable, even though she was no longer alone. And as terrified as she was of getting out of her car and going to talk to him, the fear of not going, of doing nothing and losing him forever without being absolutely one-hundred percent certain that he wasn't lost already, scared her more.

Because she couldn't go on like this. Pete was a good man, and he usually made her happy, and he loved her. But, in the darkness of the night, when her fears and her misery and her loneliness overcame her and tears slid uncontrolled down her cheeks, it wasn't him she longed for; wasn't his shoulder she needed to cry into, or his arms around her, holding her close, or his voice, murmuring into her hair that everything was going to be alright.

It was Jack; and it had been for as long as she could remember. She still couldn't imagine its being anyone else - not ever.

* * *

_She'd tried not to for as long as she possibly could. But the image of the staff blast tearing into him was burned too clearly into her mind, and she couldn't move beyond her own sheer terror in the moment she'd thought she'd lost him forever. And Janet's death had left her raw and vulnerable, unable for once to find the solid emotional footing upon which she could rebuild her normally strong defenses. She'd been shattered, and she hadn't the strength left to hold herself together._

_She'd needed Jack._

_Which was how she found herself held in his embrace, strong arms holding her close as she cried against his neck. Only here could she finally safely fall to pieces, knowing he would give her the strength to pull herself back together again. So she clung to him, releasing all her grief and terror and pain in great wracking sobs against his chest. And he absorbed them all easily, until there was nothing left inside. And for a few precious heartbeats, nothing else existed in the universe. And in his arms she was at peace._

_They continued to stand there, clasped together, for long moments. Eventually, she managed to pull herself together; to stop trembling against him and push away enough to look up into his face._

_His features were unreadable. And peace was replaced by renewed embarrassment._

"_I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean…."_

_He smiled gently, but it barely touched his eyes. "It's okay, Carter. It's been a tough week for us all."_

_She nodded, swiping at the mess on her face with the back of one arm before attempting to return his smile. "Yes, sir." And how desperately she wanted to thank him - again - for being there for her in her weakness, despite the fact he so clearly didn't _want _to be. But she couldn't. So instead, she continued, gesturing to the door, "I need to… you know… stop by the control room before I go pick up Cassie. I don't want to be late."_

_He nodded his understanding. _

"_I'll see you at the … thing," she concluded and, turning, hurried from the room without even waiting for his reply._

* * *

She should have realized the truth back then, in the aftermath of Janet's death. Because even though she'd already started dating Pete, she'd never once thought about going to him for comfort. Hadn't considered finding solace in his arms. But she'd rationalized that it was because she didn't know him as well. And that it was because Jack had been there and he hadn't, and he didn't know the situation, or Janet as well. That she'd been worried about Jack and had needed to know that he was okay.

Over the past year, she'd gotten very good at rationalizations.

She hadn't, however, even then, tried to pretend her reaction to Jack's getting shot had meant anything other than what it did. Just as she'd known what it had meant when she'd needed to see him as the Ancient device slowly corrupted his mind, or when she'd blackmailed the United States government into letting her use the modified Tel'tak to find Thor. Or when it had taken her two weeks to accept Pete's proposal. She was in love with Jack O'Neill. And probably always would be.

Yet it wasn't until she'd been standing in front of the house Pete had picked out for them and he'd casually mentioned a dog that she had really understood. Because no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't see herself in that life with Pete; couldn't imagine waking up with him in that house, sharing meals in the kitchen that wasn't yellow but could be painted, or falling asleep in his arms at night. Couldn't imagine watching him play fetch in the backyard with a dog that was theirs.

In that instant, she'd known that the house, and the kitchen, and even the stupid _dog _were Jack's. They could never be anyone else's. She'd been an idiot to ever think they could be.

Yet, unless things changed, they were going to be Pete's, and because of those damn rules and regulations, they could never be Jack's.

But in that moment, at the wrong house with the wrong man, she'd finally known what she had to do. She couldn't go on alone - she didn't know how to. She needed Jack - his strength and his wisdom and just his mere _presence_ - as certainly as she had after Janet's death. She still had no solution, but at least now she knew she had to start with Jack.

Only, he might reject her; she wasn't sure he still cared beyond the professional. Which was why, of course, she was delaying the inevitable as long as she possibly could, still sitting in her car and not standing in his backyard, trying to work up the nerve to face the death of all her dreams.


	4. of Questions and Answers

Finally then, she'd come around, at long last, to the heart of the problem. Because she'd never really thought she'd stop loving Jack, or that Pete could ever truly take his place; it wasn't uncertainty over her feelings which had kept her from confronting Jack before.

It was fear about his.

The plain and simple truth was that she was afraid of finding out that his feelings had changed, that he no longer cared for her as more than a colleague and friend. That fear had kept her from speaking with him before. Because each and every time she had tried to approach him, to let him know she still loved him and needed him, and to find out if maybe they still had a chance together, he had turned her aside. He'd kept their conversation purely professional, interrupted her words, or - worst of all - given her a look of such cool indifference that she just _couldn't_. Her nerves had failed, and the subject had changed, and that had been the end of it.

Only once had she dared to come even remotely close to asking the question she needed answered, to letting him know she still cared about how he felt. And that conversation had led to disaster.

* * *

"_I wouldn't be here," he said._

_His tone was calm, accepting. Her eyes shot up, meeting his gaze, hoping against hope for a hint of something - anything - in his expression which might show any regret at all for what they had given up. There wasn't a trace. She dropped her face again as quickly as she dared, hiding her reaction, afraid he would read her disappointment in the depths of her eyes. _

_A few breaths, a moment to gather her self-control, and she looked back up. Nodding, she managed to say in a relatively normal tone, even adding a small smile as she spoke, "Yes, sir. And where would we be without you?"_

_He smiled back, that cold 'General' smile she was quickly learning to hate: the one that stretched his lips but failed to reach his eyes. Professionally unemotional and utterly heartbreaking. A superior officer mentoring his subordinate. "_You'd_ be fine, Carter. You always are."_

_She tried to return his smile with another one of her own, and was sure she'd failed miserably. She could only hope he would hurry up and leave before noticing the unshed tears in her eyes. "Yes, sir," she repeated._

"_And.." he began, dropping his gaze to the ring box sitting between them before looking back up, "You'll be fine now, too. You'll figure it out." _

"_Thank you, sir."_

_He smiled enigmatically in response before starting towards the door. Halfway there, however, he stopped and turned back towards her as if in sudden remembrance, "Oh, and Carter?"_

"_Yes, sir?"_

"_I really will need that report by tomorrow." _

_She tried to chuckle because she knew he was expecting it, and maybe she fooled him because after saying, "Good, see you tomorrow then," he turned and quickly left the room._

_Leaving her alone with her confusion and despair. Because she'd finally given him the opportunity to speak, and he'd deflected it, refusing to offer anything more than an impersonal pep-talk. And he'd made it clear he had no lingering regrets that they couldn't have anything more than that. _

_Eight days later she'd accepted Pete's proposal. They had fun together, they even worked well together, and he made her feel good. She really had nothing to lose._

* * *

Only, she'd been wrong. Despite his seeming indifference, despite the fact he seemed to avoid and dislike every attempt she made to approach him on anything other than the purely professional, she didn't _know_. Not for certain. And that made all the difference because there was still that chance - that hope however slim - that they could somehow have more. And the closer it came to her wedding, to her being forever bound to a man she could never love as much as she loved Jack, the more she was coming to realize she was making a terrible mistake.

She couldn't move on from Jack until she knew, absolutely and without doubt, that it was over between them. Because there were times when she felt like she was drowning, or suspended in space, gasping for breath yet unable to breathe. When the need to be with him, to talk with him the way she once had, to look into his eyes and be able to read his thoughts as clearly as if they were her own and, more than anything else, to feel his hand on her arm or shoulder nearly overcame her. When she needed to feel his arms wrapped around her, pulling her close, surrounding her in his embrace so desperately it was all she could do to keep from giving in and going to him right _then_ with her desire. And the chance of having that, of not having to fight anymore, made any risk worthwhile. Made any risk _necessary_. Even the risk of offending him so deeply she'd lose what little she still had of him forever.

Not that she wasn't losing that anyway. General O'Neill belonged to the entire base; he was no longer her colonel or her commander and hardly even her friend. She couldn't remember the last time they'd said more than half-a -dozen sentences to each other, let alone eaten lunch together. So, really, the risk was relatively small.

Really.

Yet she was still sitting in her car, in his driveway, watching the smoke dissipate into the sky. Not moving. Because if he tossed her aside, if she had lost the love she'd hardly deserved in the first place and surely didn't deserve now, she wasn't sure how she could go on. And she was terrified of having to find out.

But this time, she wasn't giving into her fear. Whatever happened, she would survive and go on. Because no one ever _actually_ died of a broken heart. And it was, after all, only Jack she was facing. And she had stared down Go' auld System Lords before. She could _do_ this.

With a deep breath, pushing aside all her doubts and fears and possibilities and probabilities the way she had for all those other giants, she finally moved. She got out of the car, and went to go ask Jack O'Neill if he still loved her. It was the hardest thing she had ever done.


	5. Overcome

She hadn't expected Dad's death to come so suddenly or to hurt so much. She had thought she was ready. But as she leaned forward to kiss his forehead and felt his life pass away beneath her, she knew she had been wrong.

She had never felt more bereft. Until that instant she hadn't realized how much she had relied on his mere existence, no matter how far from her he might actually be. Simply knowing someone somewhere loved her completely and unconditionally and believed in her beyond her accomplishments and abilities had made all the difference. But she had lost that. And she had lost him. She was alone.

Her eyes squeezed shut reflexively, vainly trying to hold back a renewed wave of tears; her hands tightened their grip on his now lifeless hand, and she wept.

A firm hand on her shoulder steadied her and a softly spoken "Sam" brought her back to herself. It was such an unfamiliar word coming from such a familiar voice that at first she hardily dared register it at all.

And then she remembered.

Jack and "Always." His arm around her shoulder, holding her close; his hand in hers, giving her comfort. And she hadn't been completely certain she'd understood, but she hadn't had the strength or desire to go on fighting, so she'd followed his lead, finding solace in his embrace, hoping that maybe, just maybe…

His hand squeezed her shoulder as he spoke her name again, more beautiful in its gentleness than in any of her dreams. "Samantha..."

She couldn't help herself. She turned and straightened, daring to look him fully in the eyes for the first time in ages, no longer afraid of what she might or might not see reflected there.

His shields had dropped. Shields which proved she hadn't been alone in her fears. His eyes looked back, naked into hers, openly revealing all the love and desire they'd ever had. And she knew she _had_ been answered with his "Always," despite not having even fully voiced the question.

Jack still loved her.

She hadn't lost him to rules and regulations, or because of Pete, or through her own stupid fears. He was still hers. He always had been and always would be. Just as she was his.

And at that moment, nothing else mattered. The rest could be figured out in time. She stepped forward, into his waiting arms, and he drew her into his embrace. She clung to him, leaning on his strength, her emotions finally running as freely as the tears down her cheeks, unrestrained by embarrassment or fear or doubt.

They would be okay.

And she was no longer alone.

- end -


End file.
